By your side
by kimmiesjoy
Summary: Post Sucker Punch. Castle takes the guilt on himself, she's noticed that about him.


**A/N:** For Judy/fanficfan39 I'm sorry this took me forever. Thanks Jessie for the cover and super quick, secretly at work no one can see you, beta.

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Castle takes the guilt on himself, she's noticed that about him. He steps in when he's needed (and when he's not) and shoulders more than his fair share of the blame when things fall apart. Among the many aspects of his character she's observed, and yes she stares just as creepily as he does she will admit that to herself, it's this one trait that has started to fascinate her.

Aside from the childish glee that is as endearing as it is galling, the sarcasm and storytelling, the wit that matches her own toe to toe, it's perhaps his eagerness to assume blame that takes her the most by surprise. Has her feeling, even though she's hurting too, the need to comfort him, especially tonight.

Coonan is dead. There's no denying it, no escaping it, no sidestepping when she's just finished scrubbing his blood from under her fingernails. Yet, Castle's taken it to heart, she can see it in the way he tries to joke and smile and promises to keep her secrets whilst looking as tired and done in by the day they've had as she feels.

It's _not_ his fault. This penchant of taking on guilt is stopping him from seeing that. Perhaps the spectre of death hovered a little too close for comfort to someone so much more used to the light than she is. Perhaps he's still reeling from that brush with shadow and can't seem to find a convincing smile.

Whatever it is, she watches him as they trade food, and she laughs when his sudden nervous relief that she still wants him here spills over into flicking one of his chopsticks the length of her desk.

"You make a mess and I might have to reconsider keeping you around."

It's a joke but the second the words leave her mouth she regrets them. His face pales, falls, and most noticeably of all he doesn't fire off his own flippant retort. Beckett drops a hand over his and sighs, "I'm kidding, Castle. Just don't fling food around, I don't want bugs infesting my desk."

"Tag along writer is more than enough infestation." His eyes lower to where their hands touch, the lift of his lips half hearted and not fooling her one little bit.

"Stop it," she demands under her breath, eyes lifting to meet his when he flinches at her tone. "Have you ever known me to lie?"

Castle looks stunned by her sudden anger, her rousing insistence on answers.

"No." He shakes his head, doesn't blink, eyes lit instead by a fierce determination not to turn away.

"Ever known me to be anything other than straightforward with you?"

"No, Beckett I'm -"

"Then take my word for it, Castle. You're not going anywhere -" she spears his hotdog with her spork, "-yet."

 _Yet_ being later, _yet_ being when they've solved the case. _Yet_ being, she equally hopes and dreads, a very long time from _now_.

He watches as she grins and takes a bite, and she waits for her words to penetrate his thick skull. It takes longer than she expects for him to truly believe what she says, that sudden and surprise guilt holding him tighter than she gave it credit for. Beckett waits, hoping it shows on her face - if not in the words he seems determinedly deaf to - that she doesn't want him gone. That she'd like him by her side, when she finally brings to justice everyone involved in her mother's murder, is probably the truest thing she's said in a long time. Now they've started this journey she can't see herself finishing it alone.

Eventually, after much visual back and forth, and silence that they both stubbornly refuse to break, there is a flicker of something akin to acceptance spreading out over his features. A small nod, a held breath that works itself in time with his slow blink.

Beckett quirks her head and makes it known she's waiting, offers back his hotdog but keeps it at arm's length until he answers.

"Fine," Castle raises a hand in compliance, expression suspiciously blank given how earnest she's being, "I yield to the detective with the gun."

"And don't you forget it."

Beckett smiles, this time when Castle reciprocates it reaches his eyes, and the tight feeling that had been lacing its way around her chest eases off. Not completely of course, this day has been a cluster fuck of grief from start to finish. Discharging her weapon and ending someone's life is never an easy thing to do, will probably filter in and out of her dreams for the coming weeks, but Castle is here, smiling, stealing spoonfuls of her Carbonara like he thinks she can't see him, and the normality helps the upheaval settle.

It doesn't take long for the sideways glances to start, the tentative foray into containers she guards getting bolder by the second. Their elbows nudge and things slide this way or that for whoevers advantage until their sporks clash over the last piece of chicken and Beckett knows he just cannot hold it in any longer.

"So, you love having me around, huh?" He smirks as they give in and leave the morsel unclaimed. Castle stares pointedly over the bun of the last foil wrapped hotdog as she ditches the Sushi and opts to pluck apart a slice of lightly fried garlic bread.

 _Took you long enough_ , she thinks as the oil seeps out onto her fingers. She licks it off when she speaks, pretending not to see his eyes drop to her lips, " _Love_ might be a strong word for it." She shrugs, popping a bite between her teeth, "Put up with, suffer through, tolerate. Whatever."

" _Like_ then," he counters, licking mustard from the pad of his thumb, mimicking her as she swallows, "you definitely _like_ having me around. I can tell."

She tries not to roll her eyes, concentrating instead on her food, "Because I told you I did. You can not have an epiphany about something I've already told you."

He scoffs around a bite of his hotdog and shakes his head, "Before tonight, I kinda knew."

"Oh yeah, how?" She challenges, unfurling her legs and lifting onto her elbows, rising up over the desk.

"You smile when I bring you coffee."

"That's the coffee, Castle" she dismisses, chewing more bread.

"You set my pens out for me in a neat line," he smirks, "It's a little weird, but kinda cute."

"That's because you leave things everywhere and -

"Well, if you let me have a drawer in this mighty fine desk we share -"

"I'm not giving you a drawer, Castle. We're not a couple."

"And whose fault is that!" He smirks again when she splutters.

"Yours, for being an immature, interrupting -"

He interrupts, "Then there is the defining piece of evidence."

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

"From the horse's mouth herself, no less."

"Jeeze, Castle, thanks for that comparison."

"You like it -"

"When you go home and leave me in peace to do all the paperwork," she gripes quietly, trying not to smile at the way his eyes are alight once more.

" -when I -"

"Don't fire off theories about the C.I.A."

"-pull your pigtails."

"I-"

"Can't deny it." He holds up fingers, forms a weird shield against the possibility and shouts the words as though frightened she'll jinx them both if she does.

She wouldn't anyway, deny him, when it's the truth.

Her eyes drop as she gets to her feet, "No, I suppose I can't," Beckett shrugs, pushing the now empty food containers to the edge of the desk, where Castle holds open an empty paperbag.

They stand together in silence, watching as the containers tip and fall gracelessly, one by one into his repurposed trash bag. When everything's done and tidied away Castle drops the bag onto his seat and turns to her.

"I'm sorry for today, Kate," he murmurs quietly, and before the strangeness of Castle saying her name can even register his arms are coming around her, drawing her into his chest.

She goes easily enough, allowing the heat of his body to shield her while she tries not to remember that it was only his hand on her shoulder that made her stop pumping the chest of a dead man. Only his voice that drew her up and away from the chaos and convinced her to go shower, change, and bag up her clothes as evidence.

She goes easily and finds her eyes closing the moment her head hits his shoulder, the warmth of his chest now gentle under her cheek.

His breath paints her ear and she fights back a shiver when he speaks, "I am so sorry, Kate."

"I know," she squeezes her eyes together when the burn at the back of her throat doesn't allow her to say anything else, and her fingers finally come up around him too. She feels the tightness in his chest ease a little when she holds him. Comfort, strange that, given everything that's happened in the last twenty four hours, they find it in each other.

"Stop feeling guilty, Castle," she demands, hearing in silence the way his mind whirs with it, turns it over, squeezing him hard for emphasis.

"I will if you will," he grouches and she laughs a soft sound against his shoulder. He squeezes her tight and for a brief second she holds her breath. Then her arms come up around him, tighter, bolder, and she squeezes back, glad he's alive, glad he's still making jokes and making her laugh after everything that happened.

"Still not your fault, Castle" she promises quietly, wanting to banish that thought from his head, stroking a hand down his shoulder in a gesture that makes her suddenly glad the precinct is deserted. Beckett closes her eyes and feels the tiredness creep a little further into her bones, holding herself up not as appealing when she has the option of leaning into Castle instead.

He's running a hand up and down her back when he breathes almost silently, "Not yours either."

"Can we just agree we're both equally to blame -"

"Or blameless." He counters.

" - and move on?" She asks, not able to to stifle the yawn that rises up.

"Sure, wana shake on it?"

"I think this hug will do just fine, Castle." She pats him once and laughs when he tugs on a strand of her hair, making a very literal point before he lets her go.

They step apart, awkwardly, both a little unsure of what to do with their arms now they're empty of each other.

When he clears his throat and reaches for the trash, Beckett smiles to herself. Though it's not gone entirely, the cloud of guilt has lifted a little. Choosing her words carefully, she fires something off to see if he'll bite. "Come on, Castle, it's time we go home and put this day to bed."

It's not what she expects, but she's not disappointed.

"I don't know, Beckett," he grins, completely sidestepping the bed comment and snatching her coat from the back of her chair. "We could always stay here and cuddle."


End file.
